


Too Late For Us

by HockeyFan2428



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Criminal Minds RPF
Genre: Character Death, Evanesence My Immortal, F/M, Guilt, Murder, My First Work in This Fandom, My Immortal - Freeform, Regret, Serial Killers, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-18
Updated: 2018-04-18
Packaged: 2019-04-24 14:26:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14357346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HockeyFan2428/pseuds/HockeyFan2428
Summary: She suffered, he blamed himself. Now he will never have a chance to tell her how he felt.





	Too Late For Us

Darkness. Nothing but thick and complete darkness. Sounds of dripping echoing from somewhere. Heavy, sickening stench of blood, causing nausea taking over me. As I try to move my hands, wipe sweat off my forehead, I realize I am cuffed. Cuffed to something, some kind of table. Probably metal, by the feeling of chillness.

“Hotch? JJ?” my voice is quiet and raspy from lack of water and fear.

“No one can hear you. You and I are all alone,” a voice says from the darkness. Cold, lacking any emotion or empathy…. It sounds as a robot was in the room, not a human being. The human being _I_ let go, because I was sure he did not commit those horrendous crimes.

“You son of a bitch, you are going to pay for this. They will find you.”  
“Too bad it will be too late for you to see how it ends.”

“They know where we are,” I growl and try to move my hands. Faint light illuminates dark room and I realize my only way out, my phone, is in his hands. I can see the reflection of my screen in his cold eyes and hear his voice soon after: “They don’t know. One of your _friends_ is asking where are you and why they haven’t heard from you.”

The room goes dark again and I hear quiet steps. The next time he speaks up is when he is right above me, his voice now mocking: “They will find you? When it’s too late. Little miss agent forgot to tell her friends where she was going, how dumb of her… I thought you were some kind of genius.”

I hear footsteps again, this time walking away. I expect to hear the door open, for my captor to leave me alone, like he left his other victims, but he turns on the light instead. I gulp hard, knowing what it means – whenever he turned on the lights, he started slowly inflicting deep and shallow cuts, tormenting his victims for hours before they finally bled out. Unwillingly I remember Spencer’s profile on this guy.

 

_After finding yet another victim with deep and shallow lacerations, another brunette who went missing while wearing a red piece of clothing, Spencer and I sit down and start profiling the maniac who did this._

_“So, what do you think?” he asks, sipping hot coffee. I look down at the case files and lean back on my chair: “Well, this unsub clearly takes his time to murder those girls…”_

_“The coroner found traces of assaults.”_

_“Multiple unsubs?”_  
“No. Victims were repeatedly raped.”  
“Jesus Christ! That and they had to endure long death? This guy is…”  
“Keep it professional. Remember, always stick to professionalism.”

 _“Sorry. Apparently, the suspect gets frustrated at the sight of brunettes, who happen to wear something red. They were all between the ages of twenty and thirty years old. The lacerations were random, yet still planned. He was careful enough not to inflict deep wounds where the victim could bleed out quickly.”_  
“Meaning?”  
“This guy knows anatomy, Spence. But how does he lure the victims with him?”

_“Think, y/n. Young women, wearing red clothes. You know, statistically, females who wear red are more likely to attract men’s attention.”  
“Because red usually signalizes willingness. Just like there are red districts notorious for prostitution. What was their relationship status?”_

_He quickly scans over the files and looks up: “Single, one of them divorced, but neither of them had a serious partner at the time.”_

_“He preys on single young females, who wear red. Sexually assaults them multiple times before slowly murdering them.”  
“One more thing, he turns on the lights,” he hands me a piece of paper from the first crime scene. In which the murderer mocks the police and explains why he turns on the light before starting his torture – to see the fear and desperation in victims’ eyes and watch as they slowly start losing faith they would make it out alive. And to stare at their eyes as the light slowly starts dying._

That was my only mistake – putting on red tank top and heading to a date with my old friend, who moved to San Francisco soon after we both graduated high school. And now the psycho I let go has me captured. How ironic.

“Do you regret letting me go now?”

“You are not getting away with it. Killing an agent…everyone will be after you.”  
“I was let go, remember? You didn’t follow your instincts when your coworkers were convinced I was their guy.”

I flinch at the sound of his belt clasp clicking and close my eyes. Maybe this way I can pretend it’s not that bad.

“Open your eyes!” he slaps my cheek and I can taste blood in my mouth. I spit it on the metal surface and look at him: “You are not going to break me.”

“Oh, no, I am just going to kill you.”

His voice is so cold, so calm and collected I know I won’t be able to bargain my way out of this.

“But first…something you deserve.”

I close my eyes for a second, just to hold back tears. Is this really how it’s going to end? All those years of hard work and skipped social events to learn… and it comes down to this?

 

“She is not answering my messages, Hotch!” JJ tells her boss, Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner after not receiving any response to her tenth message to her friend and coworker.

“Does anyone know where she could be?”  
“She said she was going on a date with her friend from high school…” Morgan explains, remembering how he was giving her hard time after finding that out. He thought she would end up with Spencer Reid, but the way she excitedly told everyone about that date…seeing that happen seemed unlikely.

“I contacted him, boss, she never showed up,” Emily shakes her head, then she continues “In fact, he asked me whether she was still with us. She never responded to his messages.”

“Morgan, call Garcia. Tell her to track her down.”

“I am on it, boss.”  
While Morgan is on the phone, JJ turns to her boss, fiddling her fingers nervously: “Do you think…?”  
“I don’t want to think about that, JJ, but I can’t shake off the bad feeling about it.”

“I was last on the phone with her when she was getting ready. She asked me… oh, shit!”

“What did she ask you, agent Jareau?”

JJ whispers quietly: “If wearing red shirt to a date is wrong?”

“Red shirt?” Spencer looks up from his notes and shakes his head: “Do you know if she w-wore it?”

“I think she did,” fair-haired agent confirms everyone’s worst fears.

“Morgan, tell me Garcia has some good news.”  
“Sorry, boss. No credit card has been used, she hasn’t checked her social media, which is quite unusual for her…what’s wrong?”

“The Bull Killer got her. Prentiss, Jareau, gather the S.W.A.T. team. Spencer, where were other victims found?”

“Near the abandoned storage unit… they have all been found at the exact same spot. Which leads to the conclusion the killer probably doesn’t like to dump bodies far from the killing grounds. That storage unit…”  
“Has been our primary crime scene in every single case, the place was full of victims’ DNA.”

 

I have never felt worse in my entire life…I have never felt more humiliated and dishonored in my life. Less in control of myself than I do now.

“You are a tough one, aren’t you? Let’s see how tough you are when I am slowly cutting you.”

First laceration is unexpected and I feel the blade cut deep through my flesh. Barely stopping from screaming at the burning feeling, I whimper and close my eyes. He slaps my cheek once again: “Keep your eyes open!”

Then he stabs my leg, pushing the blade through my muscles all the way to the handle of the knife.

Being trained to keep my mouth shut during every kind of torture, I yet again manage to hold back screams, but I know I won’t be able to hold back any longer. I feel blood pouring out of both wounds and I know the metal table is already dark red.

I mentally prepare for another cut, another stab, but…it doesn’t happen. He walks over to left side of my head and leans down to my ear: “You know, if we met in other circumstances, I wouldn’t hesitate to hook up with you…” The tip of the blade slides across my cheek gently enough not to cut through my skin, as he continues: “That red top you wore…and your brown hair….and knowing you are a girl in the uniform…The first time you interrogated me, you caught my eye. You know how alluring you can be to men like me?”

Breath hitches in my throat as he applies just a bit more pressure, sliding the knife over my left brow. I wish I could come up with a response, but…I really want to hear what has been driving him. If I die, I want to know if Spencer and I were right.

“So that’s why you murdered those women? You were attracted to them?” I try to conceal the disgust in my voice and try to buy some more time. He chuckles and shakes his head: “I thought you had me figured it out…”  
“I want to know what triggered those murders…Please. Didn’t your victims have one last wish? Mine is to know what triggered your actions.”

He sighs: “They did have one last wish. See how nice I was of them. Too bad they all wasted it on keeping them alive and letting them go. That’s why you are so different…”

He sits down and I hear the sound of his chair sliding closer to my metal bed. He buries his head in his hands before speaking: “I had a sister. She was…she was beautiful and outgoing. Never afraid to flirt with anyone who wore pants.”

 

“Christ, Reid, stop doing that,” Emily scolds her colleague, who is driving her crazy with constantly tapping his foot against the bottom of the car. He doesn’t even look at her when he speaks up: “I…I am worried.”  
“We all are and we are driving as fast as we can,” Morgan tries to comfort him from the passenger seat. Socially awkward genius only scoffs: “Not fast enough. What if we are too late?”  
“Don’t think like that. Beside, she has proven she can talk her way out of anything.”

“I really hope you are right… but taking in account this guy’s previous murders… the chances are statistically really slim, almost non-existent.”

“Pretty boy, you seem awfully convinced in your coworker and friend’s fate. And to think you two could ever end up together…”  
“W-What?”  
“It doesn’t matter right now. Yes, Sweet pea, talk to me, you dug something?” the last sentence is meant for Penelope Garcia, who tried her hardest trying to find any clue of where their coworker could have been held captive.

“You gorgeous chocolate god, I might have some good news. Our suspect just made a mistake…thanks to him sending message I can give you approximate location.”

While Garcia is trying to help, Spencer looks at his phone and realizes he has an unread message from Y/N: “Guys, she just texted…me.”

That last ‘me’ is whispered, barely audible, even Emily next to him had hard time hearing it.

“Oh, no, what’s wrong? Spencer! What’s wrong?”  
Their genius quietly passes her phone, staring into nothing, unable to say a word.

“Oh, Christ…”  
“We will find her, she is not gonna bleed out, I promise.”

 

Something must’ve triggered him while explaining why he is after a specific type of victims. Something must’ve caused him to lose his mind. Which results in merciless cutting, slicing, stabbing, slashing, but his actions are careful. Even when raging, he knows how not to cut any major arteries, how to make my inevitable death painful and agonizingly slow. Eventhough I said he won’t break me…it was too much. With tears pouring down my cheeks I try my hardest to think away the pain, to think of something else. Of my first case at the BAU, of everything that has happened in those past few years since I have been working with the best and most talented team of behavior analysts.

“I told you I would break you. Even the toughest girls break,” he laughs and lifts small meat saw. I shake my head: “Please, don’t…”

With a grin of which the devil itself would be proud of, he approaches the blade to my toes and looks at me: “We’ll go one by one. Scream all you want, it’s like a melody to my ears.”

As soon as cold iron touches my skin, I whimper. After what seems like hours of crying, there are no tears left. I hear the sound of the blade cutting through layers of skin, muscles and bones, I hear a thump and wet splash as my severed toe hits the ground, but it feels…now it feels like I am observing this happen to someone else.

“Hey, don’t you dare to pass out!” he slaps my cheeks twice. My face is probably red from his hits. And full of cuts, he wasn’t sparing my face. I know for sure there are two identical cuts where there once were my eyebrows and my face is, beside being red from hits, covered in dried blood and fresh floods of blood.

“You know you are on the verge of death, right? I thought your friends were going to save you…guess we were wrong?”  
“Screw you,” I spit out. His laughter makes me sick to my core, especially as he slides his blade across my now exposed chest. I feel the tip of the knife dig into my skin, however, it doesn’t cut it. I mentally and physically prepare for another cut, which never happens. Instead, the force with which he hits me in a face, nearly blinds me. I hear my nose break at the impact as a mist of bloody droplets sprays out. And as it wasn’t enough, the impact was directly on my nose and mouth area – I could taste my own blood feeling my mouth and feel two teeth break.

“It’s going to be hard being smart ass with broken nose and mouth, full of blood, now isn’t going to be?”

“L-Let…me…die…already,” I barely choke out and cough out warm blood. He chuckles and shakes his head: “Not just yet. We haven’t even started yet, I still have nine toes…and all ten fingers.”

“You…You are…going…down…”

“Maybe, but you won’t be here to see it,” his voice is awfully jolly. He slowly walks back to my exposed feet and flicks my pointer toe.

“Shall we continue?”

“PUT THE SAW DOWN!”

 

Hotch’s voice echoes through the room and Daniel realizes it’s over. He looks at his last victim, who barely has her eyes open, but still musters enough strength to whisper: “I…told…you.”

He drops his weapon and kneels with his hands held above his head, grinning. He looks at the boss of the team and licks his lower lip: “Hope you will enjoy my last gift, agent. It has been a pleasure hanging out with her.”

“Shut up!”

“I am afraid, agent, you arrived too late to save her. Wish you let me finish my masterpi-“

A single gunshot booms through the storage unit, which is filled with suffocating stench of both drying and fresh blood, of torture and vomit. But it wasn’t Aaron Hotchner who pulled the trigger. It was socially awkward fan of horror movies, the team genius, Spencer Reid. Who is now standing astride, his hands shaking and his eyes wide in disbelief of what he has just done.

“I-I…”

He lets go off his gun, just letting it fall on the floor with a loud thump, then rushes to the metal table where their coworker is cuffed and covered in blood. With trembling fingers he tries to release her from the iron bounds.

“S-Spence…,” she whispers, barely hanging on. He grabs her hand, completely unaware of his action, much to his colleagues’ surprise, and shakes his head: “No, you are not going anywhere! You can’t give up! Call the ambulance!”  
“They are on their way!”

“N-No…Spence,” she whispers, small bloody bubbles gathering in both corners of her mouth.

“The ambulance is on the way, Y/N, hang in there. J-Just a bit more, please.”

“I,” she coughs, spitting out blood “I am n-not…gonna…”  
“You are going to make it. You have to!”

“No…no ambulance.”

“You are getting out of here alive.”

She shakes her head and coughs before whispering: “Use your… logic, doctor.”

He is so focused on his colleague that he doesn’t even realize the rest of the team is behind him. That Hotch has already picked up sawed off toe carefully and that the bloodied saw is in the evidence bag, secured and waiting to be transported. He knows what his logic is telling him; she has lost too much blood already, she barely has enough life in her to whisper, let alone fight to stay alive. Damage on her face…he is glad she can’t see it. The murderer nearly smashed her face in, her face is covered with blood, her eyes are half closed and every time she takes a breath, bloody mist sprays in the air. But he can’t let her die. They cannot afford to lose another important member of the team, HE can’t afford to lose her.

“Please,…” he whispers and leans his forehead against her hand. Morgan, who is right behind him, puts his hand on his shoulder: “Reid…she is….she is gone.”

“Where is the ambulance!?”  
“We called them as soon as we got here…” JJ whispers, her gaze locked on her colleague’s still and cold body.

 

The team stands still as the coroner zips up black body bag. The time seems to be frozen ever since she took her last breath and closed her eyes forever. JJ and Emily are hugging each other, both of them sobbing. There are no tears falling down their cheeks, only loud sobs escaping their chests. The shock of seeing a young agent, who has been with them for less than a year, pass away is holding their tears captive, but they both know they will come later. Morgan next to Emily is staring at where they found her, the icy cold metal desk where she passed, the surface covered with blood. He remembers how she was always up for a prank, how she would do anything to get her payback for each time he teased her about Spencer. Or any other guy. Hotch next to him has his eyes focused on the coroner’s van, where there are now two bodies, both laying in black body bags. Only one of them deserved to die. He deserved to meet his demise. And he didn’t deserve his death to be quick. Hotch glances over at their genius doctor, who slipped down against the wall as they took her body to the van. Eventhough he is socially awkward, he really liked his coworker. Only he never knew how to show it. And now he will never have a chance to show her how he felt about her. Quiet steps approach him as the van drive away, but he doesn’t realize that until Morgan speaks up: “How are you doing, kid?”

Spencer shakes his head, sobbing loudly, his chest shaking. Morgan kneels down in front of him: “We couldn’t help her.”

“Y-You don’t…know that.”

“Reid, you are the genius here. You and I both know that deep inside you are aware it was too late.”

Young agent looks down and murmurs: “It was.”

No statistical data about what are the possibilities of survival, no mention of other cases, nothing. Just two words, plain two words.


End file.
